The Knave of Souls - Fantasy - Sequel to The Jack of Souls

Chapter 50 - Hooves in the Night

HOOVES IN THE NIGHT

*

Caris half ran and half skidded down the stone slope of the viewpoint and back into the shelter of the giant, silent tree trunks. She hung the lantern on its pole, mounted Rag, and turned the mare toward where she'd left Willard.

He's probably still in the middle of his rage, she thought. And if he was, she'd have no choice to but leave him bound while Bannus rode to cut them off. Piles. But she had no choice: she had to ride to him, in hope that maybe—just maybe—he'd be back to himself and could ride. She'd spilled some of the Blood that night, after all, so he hadn't drunk as much as usual. Surely, if he hadn't drunk as much, then the rage wouldn't last as long.

She felt herself breathing too fast—the short, shallow breaths of fear—and forced herself to slow it down, and draw in a deep lungful. The familiar roar of confusion began in her head, and she opened her senses to Rag, seeking the mare's steadiness. But she found Rag ruffled and anxious, lapsing back into distrust. As the roar between her ears threatened to grow stronger, Caris tried another tactic. She devoted herself to calming Rag, stroking her mane and her neck and murmuring familiar and comforting words. She told her how brave she was. How strong. How wise.

Rag looked back at her with huge eyes. She shook her mane as she walked, but grew gradually calmer. Caris opened herself again to soak in the calm, but found she no longer needed to.

Before they saw Willard's candle lantern, they heard Molly blowing and stamping, rattling her lead chain like a mad dog at a stake. Caris had never come back so early after the drinking, so she had no way of knowing if Molly always reacted this way to Willard-Krato's rage, or if she could sense her brother, Gygon, on the other side of the river. It sounded like Molly would pull the tree over if someone didn't let her free. But that someone would not be Caris.

She tied Rag a good hundred paces from the Phyros, took the lantern from its pole, and hurried to Willard.

When Willard saw her, he howled incoherently into his gag, and her heart dropped. Krato still blazed behind his eyes. He'd half-gnawed through the kerchief gag already, and his wild eyes rolled at the sight of her. Gabbling and choking, he slung saliva from his jaw, and roared into the gag.

Caris set her jaw. There was no hope of releasing him now. She'd have to wait.

Then she sensed something had changed in Willard-Krato. Pausing to look closer, she felt an unpleasant prickle at the back of her neck. His eyes were shining with...laughter? Yes. The incoherent gabble into the gag was hateful laughter. Willard-Krato threw his head back against the tree trunk, then rolled his head away to leer at Molly, and back to Caris. Choking laughter rocked him.

Caris raised the light to look at Molly and saw the violet eyes burning like immortal fires. Her scars glowed with purpled light as she tossed her head from side to side and jerked at her chain. The tree shook, and Molly danced around it until her rump faced Caris, legs slightly spraddled, tail high.

All the blood and warmth drained from Caris's heart.

"No..." The word escaped as the merest breath, and it sent Willard-Krato into another fit of laughter.

Molly was in season. Gygon had set her in heat.

Caris's stomach rolled. She could see the god's plans in his eyes: Molly, siring a new breed of home-grown Phyros; Molly's offspring, reviving the Old Ones.

And now Bannus and Gygon had ridden ahead of them.

She stumbled back to Rag and rode as fast as the poor light of the lantern allowed. Willard wouldn't be sane for an hour. She had to ride to the others and warn them of Bannus. Once she woke and set them in motion, she could return to Willard and release him.